The Druid Prince
by SisterOfAnElvenWannabe
Summary: At age one, Arthur Pendragon is kidnapped by bandits. He is rescued by the Druids, who take him in. At age twelve, a patrol from Camelot comes across him and recognizes him as the lost prince. Now Arthur must return to the royal life he doesn't remember, and a father who ruthlessly hunts the people Arthur considers his own.
1. Prologue: The Missing Prince

**Disclaimer: I do not own** _ **Merlin**_ **.**

 **A/N: This is the second of my two stories I'm doing for NaNoWriMo this year. As with the other one, it may or may not be updated in November, since I'll need to proofread chapters before I post them.**

 **Prologue: The Missing Prince**

The warning bells of Camelot were clanging.

In the palace, there was panic, as armed men rushed down the halls.

"The prince! The prince is gone!" someone cried, and the words were echoed, the news spreading.

"The prince! We must find the prince!"

But it was too late. There was no trace of the little prince, or of those who had taken him.

xxxxxxxx

Celyn had been making his way back to his camp when he came upon the bandits. Seeing the light of their campfire, he stopped short, hidden in the trees.

He was just about to turn and make for the camp by another way – he had no interest in a confrontation with bandits – when he heard it: a small whimper.

"Shut that kid up, will you," One of the bandits snarled.

Celyn peered through the trees. He could see the bandits sitting in a ring around a campfire, and next to one of them, a very small figure.

"Home!" the small voice piped up insistently.

The bandit next to him laughed roughly.

"Don't you fret, little one," he cooed in a mocking tone, "You'll go home. As soon as your father pays the ransom."

"Or not," one of the other men laughed, "Why risk bringing the boy back and walking straight into a trap? If we sell him we can add to the profits we get from his ransom."

Celyn hesitated just for a moment, but he knew he couldn't just walk away. So he took a deep breath and stepped out of the trees and into the clearing.

"Good evening, gentlemen," he smiled, "I hope you're all doing well.

In an instant, every man was on his feet and facing him, drawing weapons.

"What do you want?" growled one, who Celyn assumed was the leader.

"I couldn't help overhearing your conversation…" Celyn said, "It seems that child would rather not be with you."

"I don't see how that's any of your business, Druid," the leader stepped forward, raising his sword meaningfully.

Celyn sighed, "I can see that you gentlemen are not going to be reasonable."

As the bandits advanced toward him, he raised his hand. His eyes flashed gold and the men were sent flying back.

He walked over to the little boy, who stared up at him with wide eyes.

He crouched down, examining the boy up close for the first time. He couldn't have been more than a year old. He had blonde hair and bright blue eyes, and was dressed in what looked as if they had once been fine clothes, though now they were torn and dirty.

"They won't stay asleep long, little one." Celyn said, "It's time for you and me to go."

The child didn't protest as Celyn picked him up.

"Home?" he asked quietly.

Celyn sighed, "I'm afraid I don't know where home is, little one, but I'm taking you somewhere safe."

He made his way back to his camp, carrying the little boy in his arms.

When he entered the camp people, looked up, calling out greetings, and then began to murmur in surprise when they saw what he was carrying.

He strode to the center of the camp and waited for the others to gather around him.

When everyone was gathered, Celyn related the story of what had happened in the woods.

The child in his arms was quiet now, surveying his surroundings with big blue eyes.

"If we knew where he came from, we could return him to his family," Celyn said, "But until we can obtain that knowledge we will care for the boy ourselves. We will all care for him of course, as we do all our children, but he will need to stay with someone. Who would be willing to foster him?"

A woman stepped forward, "I will"

Celyn looked at her, "Are you sure you want this responsibility, Anwen?"

"I think I am meant to have it," Anwen said.

Celyn was puzzled, "What do you mean?"

"Years ago, when my husband was still alive, I spoke to a Seer," Anwen said, "She told me that I would be given a child in an unexpected way. And that I should call him Arthur."

The little boy suddenly turned his head and looked at Anwen. He held out his arms to her.

Celyn smiled, "I think he likes it," he carefully handed her the baby, "Well then, Arthur it is."

xxxxxxxx

King Uther sat on his throne. He was so silent and still he might have been made of stone himself.

A knight entered the throne room. He approached the throne and bowed.

Uther's gaze flickered to him, but any brief flare of hope he might have felt died when he saw the look on the man's face.

"I'm sorry, Sire," the man said, "There is still no sign of the prince."

"Keep searching," the king ordered, "Send out more patrols. Whatever it takes. I want my son found."

"Yes Sire," the man bowed again and left the throne room.

xxxxxxxx

But no matter how many patrols were sent out, they turned up nothing. Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months. Though no one dared voice the thought aloud, most believed that the little prince was surely dead by now.

Eventually the patrols ceased. Life went on. To all outward appearances, King Uther, too, had moved on, though inwardly he was never the same.

The months turned into years. And far away from Camelot and its castle, in a Druid camp hidden deep within a forest, a little boy named Arthur grew, happily unaware of who he truly was.

 **Hope you enjoyed! Please leave a review and tell me what you thought!**


	2. Chapter One: The Boy in the Woods

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Merlin_.**

 **Chapter One: The Boy in the Woods**

 _9 years later_

Arthur sat on a branch high in a tree, swinging his legs.

"Arthur, there you are!" came a voice from below him. He looked down to see his mother standing below, craning her neck to look up at him, "Come down here," she called, "Carefully!"

Arthur scrambled down the tree. When he got low enough, he jumped, landing lightly on his feet.

"I've been looking for you," His mother brushed leaves out of his hair, "Your aunt's baby was born. I thought you might want to come meet him."

"Yeah, sure I'll come," Arthur shrugged, trying to appear disinterested. Only _girls_ got excited over babies, after all.

"So, it's a boy then?" he asked his mother as they walked back to camp.

She nodded, smiling, not at all fooled by her son's show of nonchalance, "That's right."

They arrived at the camp and entered the tent that belonged to Arthur's aunt and uncle. His aunt was sitting on her sleeping pallet, holding the baby in her arms. His uncle was sitting on the ground beside her. She looked up, smiling when she spotted her sister-in-law and nephew. She beckoned them over.

Arthur walked over and sat on the floor next to his aunt, leaning over to examine the baby.

"He's really tiny!" he said. He reached out and ran one finger over the baby's cheek, "He's really soft too!"

He looked up at his aunt, "What's his name? Have you decided yet?"

She nodded, "Yes, we have. His name Is Mordred."

"Mor-dred?" Arthur repeated, pronouncing the sounds carefully.

His aunt nodded, with a smile, "Yes, that's right."

Arthur studied the baby, forgetting that he was supposed to be trying to look uninterested.

The baby was sleeping. Wisps of black hair clung to his head.

"Would you like to hold him?" his aunt asked.

"Yeah, okay," he remembered to sound bored this time, but his eyes gave him away and the grown-ups smiled knowingly. Arthur's uncle lifted the baby carefully, and placed him in Arthur's arms.

"Be careful," he said, "Hold him just like this," he positioned Arthur's arms, "And remember to support his head."

"Is this what I looked like when I was a baby?" Arthur asked as he looked down at his cousin.

His mother and aunt exchanged glances.

"Well, we didn't know you when you were this young," his mother said gently, "You remember how Celyn found you."

Arthur nodded, "He saved me from the bandits!"

He looked up, "If the bandits hadn't taken me, you wouldn't be my mother, would you?"

She shook her head, running her hand through his hair, "No, I suppose I wouldn't be."

"Then I'm glad they took me," Arthur said decisively.

His mother smiled, "Sometimes bad things can lead to very good things. And I'm certainly glad that you're in my life, my baby boy."

Arthur scowled at that, "I'm not a baby!" he complained.

His mother laughed, "I know you aren't. But you'll always be _my_ baby _._ "

Arthur rolled his eyes, but secretly he was pleased.

He looked back down at baby Mordred again. The baby stirred, the opened his eyes and looked up at Arthur.

"He's got blue eyes," Arthur said, "They're kind of like mine," he added, smiling.

"You're pretty cute, I guess," he added to the baby, "Even if you can't really do anything yet."

Mordred made a cooing sound.

"He must like you," Arthur's mother said.

"Really?" For a moment Arthur beamed, then he schooled his expression into one of disinterest again, "I mean… that's nice, I guess."

His mother and his aunt and uncle seemed to find this amusing, for they all laughed.

Arthur shot them a scowl, but was too busy watching the baby to do anything else.

Mordred suddenly began to cry.

Arthur's eyes widened "What did I do?!"

"You didn't do anything," his uncle assured him, reaching out to take the baby from Arthur, "Mordred is probably just hungry." He handed the baby back to his wife.

"How will the baby eat?" Arthur asked.

"I'll feed him," his aunt responded.

"How?" Arthur asked again, "Like the goats feed their babies?"

His aunt laughed quietly, "A little like that, yes. It's something special that only mothers of babies can do."

"We should go, Arthur," his mother stood up, "Give your aunt and uncle some privacy."

Arthur raised himself to his knees then hesitated. Very quickly, he leaned forward and kissed the baby's head "Bye, Mordred."

Then he sprang to his feet and hurried out of the tent, clearly embarrassed.

His mother followed.

"So, do you like your new cousin?" she asked, with a smile.

Arthur couldn't help but smile back. "Yeah, okay, I like him," he admitted.

"But I'm not changing his diaper!" he added, scrunching up his face in disgust at the thought.

xxxxxxxx

 _2 years later_

"You can't follow me, Mordred, you aren't allowed to leave the camp."

The two-year-old's bottom lip stuck out in a pout. "Awtuh, I come!" he insisted.

Arthur hid a grin. His little cousin was always following him around the camp. Arthur pretended it irritated him sometimes, but he secretly loved it.

"I'll play with you when I get back, okay?"

Mordred gave a long-suffering sigh, "Kay."

Arthur ruffled his hair, "See you later, Mordred."

As he left the camp, his friend Meical joined him.

Both boys carried baskets, having been told to gather mushrooms while they were out. Before long it turned into a competition of who could gather the _most_ mushrooms. The boys raced through the woods, laughing and challenging each other. Eventually, they split up, each claiming that _he_ knew the best place to find mushrooms.

Arthur was bending down to pick a mushroom when he heard something behind him.

"So, you admit I was right," he turned around, grinning triumphantly, then froze. It wasn't Meical behind him. Instead, three men stood there, dressed in silver chainmail and red cloaks bearing a golden dragon. Knights of Camelot.

Arthur's face paled and he nearly dropped his basket. He didn't move a muscle, staring at the knights, wondering if he should run.

Then he realized something strange. The knights weren't behaving as he would have expected them too, either seizing him for being a Druid, or questioning him, or even simply ignoring him.

Two of them were exchanging questioning looks with each other, clearly waiting for instructions from their leader. But the leader was as frozen as Arthur, staring at the boy as if he'd seen a ghost.

Arthur took a step back, then another. This seemed to snap the leader out of his reverie.

"Wait!" he ordered sharply and Arthur froze.

He stepped forward and Arthur backed up another step.

" _Arthur?"_ the man's voice was disbelieving. The other two men were staring now too.

"How do you know my name?" Arthur demanded, wide-eyed.

"By all the gods!" one of the men muttered.

"It _is_ you," the leader said, "Prince Arthur."

Arthur shook his head, "I'm no prince. You've mistaken me for someone else."

"How old are you, boy?" the knight asked.

"Twelve," Arthur answered.

The men behind the leader exchanged a look.

"Look," Arthur said nervously, "I have to go…"

"Go?" the leader of the knights repeated, "You can't go. You must come with us. We will head for the castle by the quickest route."

"I _told_ you," Arthur said, "I'm _not_ a prince."

"But you are," the man replied, "You are Arthur Pendragon, only son of Uther Pendragon, prince of Camelot and heir apparent to the throne."

 _Uther's_ son? Arthur cringed inwardly at the thought and shook his head again, "You're wrong. Why do you think I'm the prince?"

"I recognized you the moment I saw you," the knight said, "Your hair, your eyes, the shape of your face. You're the right age too. And you answer to the name Arthur."

"That's just a coincidence," Arthur protested, but the protest sounded weak to his own ears. Because what the knight was saying _fit._ He had been told the story of how Celyn had found him many times, kidnapped by bandits and held for ransom, dressed in fine clothing… and wasn't a prince worth holding for ransom?

"You must come with us," the knight repeated firmly.

"But-" Arthur trailed off. What could he say, I promised my baby cousin I'd play with him when I got back? For a heartbeat he thought of just turning and running, but he knew he couldn't, he couldn't risk leading the knights back to his camp.

There was no choice, he realized, he would have to go with the knights.

He took a cautious step towards them.

"What's your name?" he asked the leader.

The man smiled, and then he bowed, "I am Sir Ector, Sire."

xxxxxxxx

Heads turned as Meical burst into the camp, panting.

"They took Arthur! They took Arthur!" the boy cried.

People stopped in their tracks as heads turned to stare at him. Across the camp, Anwen dropped the pot she had lifted to set over the fire and water splashed everywhere, soaking her feet. But she didn't seem to notice.

She hurried over to Meical, catching him by the shoulders, "What do you mean, Meical? _Who_ took Arthur?"

"Knights," Meical gasped, still out of breath from his dash back to camp, "King's men. They said- they said he was the _prince_."

"The _prince_?" Anwen repeated, unconsciously tightening her hold on Meical's shoulders.

"Anwen," came Celyn's voice, quiet and calm as always, "Let the boy go. Give him room to catch his breath, so he can tell us the full story."

Anwen released Meical with an apology, then stepped back a few steps, her face anxious.

Celyn waited for a few minutes until Meical's breathing had returned to normal.

"Now, tell us what happened," he instructed gently, "From the beginning."

"Arthur and I were picking mushrooms," Meical explained, "And we split up to see who could get more. When my basket was full, I went to find him and… there were these three men with him, knights of Camelot. I didn't know what to do, so I hid behind a tree. And I heard one of them say that Arthur was the prince. He _bowed_ to him, and called him Sire. And then they left. And they took Arthur with them." He had tried to call out to his friend in his mind, forgetting for a moment that Arthur did not share that gift.

"The prince…" Anwen repeated weakly, "Oh, Arthur…"

She looked at Celyn, "Can it be true?"

Celyn nodded, his eyes full of sympathy, "It makes sense. We always knew he was likely a nobleman's son. And now we know why you were given his name long before he was born."

Anwen closed her eyes, "Will he be safe?'

Celyn put his hand on her shoulder.

"Of course," he said gently, "The knights will not hurt their prince. They will protect him with their lives."

"I'm never going to see him again, am I?" her voice held a quiet despair.

"You can't know that," Celyn said, "None of us know what the future will hold."

Anwen nodded, but though his words brought comfort, it was small.

Feeling the eyes of everyone in the camp on her, she turned and hurried away. Only when she reached her tent and sank down into a sitting position on her pallet, did she allow the tears to begin to flow, weeping as she had not wept since her husband had died.

After a while, she felt a hand on her shoulder. She raised her head to see her sister-in-law kneeling next to her.

"Delyth," Anwen wiped her eyes.

Without a word, Delyth pulled her into a tight hug. For a few minutes, she didn't speak, she just held Anwen and let her cry. Finally Anwen's tears ceased.

She pulled back and looked at Delyth, "What will you tell Mordred?"

Delyth sighed, "I wish I knew. How can I make him understand why Arthur isn't here anymore?"

She shook her head, "But let me worry about that," she said firmly, "You just worry about yourself."

She looked at Anwen seriously, "I can't imagine what you must be feeling right now," she said quietly, "This is hard. It's hard for all of us. But maybe all this happened for a reason."

"What do you mean?" Anwen asked.

"Arthur is the prince of Camelot," Delyth said, "Your little Arthur could very well be king someday."

Anwen blinked at the idea. Her little boy… the king of Camelot. It was overwhelming.

Delyth reached out and took Anwen's hand, "Arthur could change everything for our people, Anwen."

A hint of a smile appeared on Anwen's face. It was faint, but it was there.

xxxxxxxx

Arthur lay on the bedroll that the knights had given him. Two of the knights were asleep, while one of them remained awake on watch.

Arthur couldn't sleep. Part of him longed to sneak away and try to find his way back home. But even if he was able to sneak away without the guard noticing, they were already far away from his home and he didn't know if he could find his way back.

And besides… there was a part of him, deep down inside that _had_ to know if what the knights were saying was true, if he really was Prince Arthur.

So Arthur lay still, but his mind was back in his camp. He wondered what Meical had thought when he disappeared. He wondered if the others knew the knights had taken him. He wondered if Mordred was upset when he didn't come back.

Most of all, he wondered about his mother. Was she worried about him? Did she know he was safe or would she think he had just vanished?

His mother, Mordred, his aunt and uncle, Meical… would he ever see any of them again? Arthur suddenly felt tears sting his eyes. He wiped them away, embarrassed, even though no one could see him. He was far too old to cry.

But, even so, there was a lump in his throat that he couldn't seem to get rid of.

He rolled over onto his side, watching the shadowy outline of the knight on duty. He had been vague when they questioned him about his life. He didn't know what the men would do if they found out he had been raised by Druids.

Arthur's hand went to a spot on his chest, above his heart. The place where his Druid mark lay. He realized suddenly, that if he went to Camelot, if he stayed there, that he would spend the rest of his life hiding it.

All his life he had heard King Uther spoken of in hushed, fearful whispers. And now he found out that the man who had caused so much suffering to his people might be his father. How was he supposed to deal with that? What was he supposed to do?

What would it mean for him if it turned out to be true? What would it mean to be the prince of Camelot?

Arthur closed his eyes tightly, as if he could shut out the world. Eventually, he fell into an exhausted sleep.

 **Hope you enjoyed! Please leave a review!**


	3. Chapter Two: Camelot

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Merlin_.**

 **Chapter 2: Camelot**

Arthur looked around with wide eyes as they entered Camelot. He had lived in a forest his entire life. He had never been anywhere like this.

He received some questioning looks as he was led through the town, people no doubt wondering who this ragged little boy being escorted by three knights was.

Soon they were through the town and entering the palace courtyard. Arthur craned his head back, staring up at the castle.

He felt his stomach clench with nerves as he was led into the castle. Sir Ector stopped before a set of huge doors that must have led into the throne room. The two men standing guard outside the room gave Arthur curious looks.

"Wait here," he instructed Arthur, "I will go tell the king that we have found you."

Arthur nodded silently, too nervous to speak. He watched as the great doors of the throne room were pulled open and Sir Ector entered.

Then he walked over to sink into a sitting position with his back against the wall that the doors were set in. He couldn't believe that he was waiting to meet the king of Camelot… his father. Part of Arthur still felt that this was all some big mistake. He couldn't _really_ be the prince of Camelot.

Maybe he was dreaming. Maybe he would wake up and he'd be back in his tent with his mother sleeping nearby. And then he'd tell her about the dream and she'd laugh and say something sappy and embarrassing like that he was _her_ prince, and then everything would go back to normal.

Arthur sighed. If only that were true. He looked around, wishing for something to distract him from his nerves and his homesickness.

He heard footsteps approaching and turned toward the sound as a girl turned the corner to his right.

She looked to be a little older than Arthur and had long black hair. She was wearing a green dress. She noticed him watching her and walked over to him.

"What are you doing here?" she asked him.

"I'm waiting to see the king," Arthur answered.

She gave him a long look, scrutinizing him, and Arthur was sure she was wondering why on Earth someone like him would be coming to see the king.

"Who're you, anyway?" he asked, then realized he probably wasn't supposed to address her like that. She was almost definitely a noblewoman. Then again, he was supposedly the prince.

"I'm Morgana," she said, "I'm the king's ward."

"Oh," Arthur said.

"What's he like?" he blurted out after a moment, "The king, I mean?"

Morgana leaned down, widening her eyes dramatically, "He eats little boys for breakfast!"

Arthur rolled his eyes, "Give me a break. I'm not a little boy."

Before Morgana could respond, the doors to the throne room opened and Sir Ector came out.

He walked over to the two children.

"My lady," he nodded his head in greeting to Morgana, then turned to Arthur, "The king will see you now, Sire."

Arthur scrambled to his feet. He darted a look at Morgana to find her staring at him, her lips forming the word "sire" without sound. He just shrugged and shot her a grin.

Then he followed Sir Ector into the throne room, his heart pounding and his palms slick with sweat.

The throne room was empty, save for a single occupant, who could only be the king. He was not seated on the throne that stood in the center of the room. Instead he stood in front of it, his hands clasped behind his back.

Sir Ector led Arthur to stand in front of him, then stepped back with a bow to the king.

Arthur could feel the king's gaze boring into him. Rather than meeting it, he stared at his feet. Suddenly he felt strong hands gripping his shoulders, but he still didn't raise his gaze.

"Look at me, boy," the king's voice was hoarse and Arthur got the impression that he was restraining some strong emotion.

Slowly, Arthur raised his head and met his eyes. For a moment, boy and king regarded each other in silence.

And then, quite suddenly, the king pulled Arthur into an embrace, " _Arthur."_ His voice was rough with emotion.

Arthur stood quite still, not returning the embrace, but not pulling away either.

After a moment the king released him. Looking up at him, Arthur was astonished to see _tears_ in his eyes.

The king cleared his throat, seemingly making the effort to pull himself together. Arthur got the feeling that it was rare that he displayed such emotion.

"Sir Ector tells me the patrol found you in the forest," he said.

Arthur nodded. He knew what was coming. The king would question him about his life. He also knew he couldn't tell the truth. No matter how happy Uther might be at the return of his son, it didn't change the fact that he had spent years hunting the Druids. Arthur couldn't give him any information that might lead Uther to his camp.

So he told the king the story he had decided upon on the way to Camelot, that the bandits who had captured him as a baby had stopped in a small village to visit a tavern, and had left Arthur outside with a man to guard him. He told the king that a village man had come upon the bandit and the child and realized that Arthur had been kidnapped. He had fought the bandit, and rescued Arthur, who he had taken home, and he and his wife had raised Arthur as their own.

"Where can I find this couple?" the king asked, "They must be rewarded."

Arthur looked down, hoping the king would take this gesture as sorrow, rather than the nervous desire to hide his face, "They died, sire. A few months back, of a fever. I've been on my own since then. I've been living in the woods."

To Arthur's great relief, the king seemed to believe his story.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he said to Arthur, "But now a new life will begin for you."

"Come," he clapped Arthur on the shoulder, "I will take you to Gaius, our court physican."

"The physician?" Arthur repeated, "Why? I'm not sick." Then he winced inwardly, realizing he was questioning the king.

But Uther only smiled, "Gaius will just check you over, make sure you're healthy."

The rest of the day was a blur for Arthur. He was taken to the court physician, who checked him over and declared him healthy. Then he was given a new set of clothes, which a servant helped him put on, and attended a meal with the king and Morgana. Over the meal, the king told Arthur that tomorrow he would make an official announcement to the people about Arthur's return and that there would be a feast in his honor the following week. None of it felt quite real.

After the meal Arthur was led to a huge bedroom that he was told would be his. He was given pajamas, and again a servant aided him in undressing and changing. Then Arthur fell into the bed, which was softer than anything he had ever felt before, and was sound asleep within a minute.

 **Please review!**


End file.
